


Into The Darkness They Go, The Wise And The Lovely

by bloodlettingcosmonaut



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, First War with Voldemort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:05:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4648134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodlettingcosmonaut/pseuds/bloodlettingcosmonaut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>When was the last time we held hands or kissed each other, even on the cheek?</i> he wondered and to his utter misery realized that he genuinely couldn’t remember. Now they were like two strangers who happened to share the same flat; both so wrapped in the Order business, that they often didn’t see each other for days. When a peaceful moment in the midst of the roaring battle occurred and they found each other in their grave home, neither of them could hold even a slightly meaningful conversation, both punch-drunk from the chaos they were part of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Darkness They Go, The Wise And The Lovely

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, hi! This is my very first Wolfstar fic and I'm slightly nervous about posting it here, also and mainly because I haven't published any of my work in a _very_ long time, but this pairing grew on me and suddenly I found myself putting this together over a couple of restless nights. It's pretty angsty ('cause that's the stuff I'm into) from the First Wizarding War period, nothing too hardcore or plot-heavy, but hopefully it's not too bad. Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy it!

 

 

_A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,_

_A formula, a phrase remains — but the best is lost._

 

 

Remus stared tentatively at the box in front of him, knowing that inside it lies inevitable pain. He glanced around the room, as if something else could provide a distraction. But the apartment was so agonizingly silent and it has been so for so long, it begun to feel more like a grave than home. The only sound of some presence was the monotone drumbeat of rain, like thousands tiny fists demanding to be let in. 

He removed the lid and then just stared at the stacks of photographs, half expecting them to come alive and provocatively dance around him, tart reminders of times long gone. 

_Why am I doing this?_ he asked himself, but his hands were already reaching into the box, blindly grabbingthe largest pile tied together with a string. Untying it, he noticed a piece of paper on top of it, on which the words in his own handwriting stated _Hogwarts years, 1971 — 78._ He tossed it aside and as soon as his eyes landed on the first photograph, his lips curved into a melancholic smile.  

Four young boys in matching robes were waving at him jovially. Their eyes were full of laughter and hope and Remus wondered if anything of these children still survived inside of those men they were today or if the war smothered all of it with its cold, bloodied hands. He swallowed, the sound so loud it temporarily violated the silence. Remus knew this wasn’t a good idea, but his hands didn’t listen to his mind and he found himself browsing through the rest of the pictures, some of them opening doors to memories he didn’t even know he possessed and some feeling completely unfamiliar. The boys slowly grew in front of his eyes, their bodies elongating and the shine in their eyes maturing. Soon a redheaded figure begun appearing among them, making one of them continually distracted by her presence. When he turned to the first picture where James and Lily clearly formed an official couple, he couldn’t suppress a smile. 

And then he got to the part, which he both desired and dreaded. Something inside of him moved; like a tiny bird trapped within his ribcage, its soft wings flapping against his heart. He let out a sigh and longingly fingered the yellowed corner of the picture, on which two boys held each other’s hands. The one with dark hair suddenly placed a kiss on the other one’s cheek, who laughed but shyly glanced at the camera. Remus found himself touching his cheek, as if the lips just brushed against it.  

_When was the last time we held hands or kissed each other, even on the cheek?_ he wondered and to his utter misery realized that he genuinely couldn’t remember. Now they were like two strangers who happened to share the same flat; both so wrapped in the Order business, that they often didn’t see each other for days. When a peaceful moment in the midst of the roaring battle occurred and they found each other in their grave home, neither of them could hold even a slightly meaningful conversation, both punch-drunk from the chaos they were part of. It was the war, Remus was convinced, that was responsible for the wintry apathy that spread between them. The war that settled itself in the scrapes of their bones and overflowed every hole of their hearts. His solemn conviction was that even if they survived this, their bodies will remain heavy with the dark past, eventually dragging them down like an anchor. There were already days when it was too difficult for Remus to even lift his head from the pillow.

He put the photographs down and inspected the rest of the pictures in the box. His eyes glided from one caption to another: _James’ & Lily’s Wedding, Christmas at Peter’s, Trip to Wales, New Year's Eve… _Until his gaze stumbled upon a small stack that bore no name. His fingers hovered over it for a moment, before he gathered the courage and moved the photos to his lap. He covered his mouth as he stared at the picture in front of him, scared that a wail might burst out of his lips.

Remus knew exactly when they took that shot. It was shortly after they moved into this apartment, both still drunk on the idea, _the reality_ of living together. He could still recall the pleasant tickling in his stomach, when they brought all the boxes into the empty flat. The mesmerized smiles they exchanged, like two children who just stumbled into the greatest toy store their little minds could imagine. How he reached to intertwine his fingers with Sirius’, who turned to him and breathed out, _“Moony, I am so happy.”_

The photograph was of them lying in their bed, bare chested with tousled hair, just after they made love in their new home for the first time. Sirius was holding the camera in one of his hand, resulting in a slightly awkward angle. They barely casted a glance towards Remus, staring instead at each other with big enthralled grins, Remus’ hand cupping Sirius’ cheek, thumb tenderly caressing his cheekbone. Sirius lips moved, but Remus wasn’t able to tell what he said, unlike his photograph self, which laughed and pulled the other man into an open-mouthed kiss.  

Remus closed his eyes, but still felt the tears staining his cheeks.

 

“Remus, what— Remus, are you crying?” 

 

The soft voice cut through the silence like a thunderbolt. Remus jumped, nearly dropping the photograph. He didn’t have to look to know that it belonged to Sirius, but raised his head anyway, trying to discreetly wipe the wet traces on his face with the sleeve of his sweater. 

Sirius walked up to him, kneeling down beside him. Remus noticed how worn out his lover looked; the skin on his face seemed almost papery, his eyes rimmed by purplish circles. His hair was getting too long. For how long has his features been mutilated like this? Has his own face altered as well? It might have, Merlin knows when was the last time he actually looked at himself in the mirror.

The other man finally noticed the picture Remus was still holding. Apprehension flickered across Sirius’ face. He took the photograph from Remus’ fingers and stared at it for a long time. The happier, younger-looking Sirius winked at him before crushing his lips against Remus’. 

Sirius turned to Remus, who averted his gaze to his pathetically empty hands. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat ashamed, as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Sirius put the picture down on the coffee table and gingerly took one of Remus’ hands into his, the simple contact of skin setting firecrackers along Remus’ spine. 

“Rem, are you… are you all right?” the question was so ridiculous that Remus actually had the urge to laugh, but the heart-splitting concern in Sirius’ voice made him think better of it. Instead he bit the inside of his cheek, the simple _no_ tickling his tongue. Myriad of jumbled thoughts eddied in his head, from _Why haven’t we slept in our bed together for more than a week? Why do I feel like jumping out of my skin when you just take me by the hand?_ to _I’m afraid of this looming darkness that’s surrounding us, I’m afraid that it’s going to swallow us all and I’m terrified of dying._

He opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. Turning to Sirius, looking into his grey eyes, he let out the first thing that crawled into his mouth.

 

“Are we still in love?” 

 

The question weighed down the air around them, seeping into the rugs and wallpapers, threatening to stay there forever to haunt them like a ghost. Remus watched how Sirius’ eyes widened in shock, immediately regretting uttering those words, wishing that he could snatch them and shove them back into his throat. The rapping of the rain was the only sound in the heavy silence, which started to feel unbearable. 

 “Are we, Sirius? _Are we?”_ it felt like stabbing a rusty blade into an already open wound, but Remus couldn’t help himself. Sirius’ face contoured with a mixture of hurt and helplessness; the face of someone who is watching an animal being slaughtered and is unable to intervene. Remus felt the grip on his hand tightening, as if Sirius could make up in the contact what he lacked in words. He could see how he was trying to find something, anything to reply with, repeatedly opening and closing his mouth.  

“I’m still in love with you, Remus,” he finally said and Remus thought that he never heard him say anything with so much gravity and despair, “and I will always be. And I _know_ that so are you and I wish I could be horrified that you’re asking me this, that you’re questioning us like this, but I can’t… I can't…” 

Remus wasn’t sure whether it was the raw emotion in his voice or the way his eyes glistened, but something inside of him broke with a loud crack and he was crying again. He slid down the sofa into Sirius, wrapping his arms around him. The other man almost instantly drew him closer, drawing soothing circles on his back and Remus found himself muttering _I’m sorry, I’m sorry_ into Sirius’ neck, not really knowing what he was apologizing for. He felt the other man’s hand gently tugging him by the hair, letting him pull his head away so that they were now staring at each other, the image from the photograph flashing before Remus’ eyes.

Their lips met with such a force, that it felt like a punch. Remus’ heartbeat matched the drumming of the rain and seemed to grow louder and louder, when suddenly he heard Sirius mumble in between the kiss: “Bedroom… _I want you,”_ and then they were blindly and awkwardly shifting towards the other room, never braking the embrace until Remus’ back hit the mattress and Sirius was on top of him, the weight of his body reassuringly familiar. He raised his arms as Sirius yanked off his sweater, warm lips pressing onto Remus’ neck, whose moans sounded like specter’s wailing in the dead of night. After some fumbling they were both naked; their chests pressed painfully together, lips aching but refusing to part, both of them after eternity forgetting about the roar of the war outside, completely dissolving into each other.

 

And then Remus felt the whole world shatter into fragments and flashes.

 

Limbs tangling together. Hot, scorching breathing just behind his earlobe. Hands, hands everywhere; wandering, grabbing, scrabbling, palms desperately trying to forge the other’s body into its memory. Moaned names repeated over and over, like mantras, like prayers. Nails and teeth digging, leaving marks and bruises. Fractures of promises and apologizes whispered into the little space between them _(“I've missed you so much, I almost forgot what your skin feels like.” “I’m here, I’m never going to leave you, never, never, fuck, I need you.”)._ All of their movements disordered and frantic, but also instinctive, nerve cells quickly recalling everything the mind has nearly forgotten.

The world shifted once again, tipping over like an hourglass. Sparkles danced behind Remus' eyelids and sparklers crackled inside of his chest. He felt his lips tearing up into a huge grin that he couldn’t let go off even when Sirius messily kissed him. The muscles in his arms and legs begun to quiver, his toes curling as the heat enveloped him, setting fire to his spine. Their grunting was drowned in the murmur of his own blood, running so fast in his veins that he was convinced they will burst. He was so close, his head a soap bubble about to float off of his neck, the sparking burning in his eyes, until everything went blank and he was shot up into the space, his fingertips brushing against the heat of stars and then dropped back onto the bed, catching his breath, everything around him slowly assembling back into whole.

 

He stayed awake long after Sirius drifted off to sleep, his head resting on Remus’ chest. Listening to his steady languid breath, he was overcome with a sudden desire to just _leave;_ wake Sirius up, pack their things into two big suitcases and jump on a train that will take them anywhere far enough from the misery that’s been sitting on their shoulders like an unflagging demon. Abandon everything as if it was just a terrible nightmare and find a life that they deserve, a life where there’ll be no sepulchral apartment and every night could be like this one. 

A dreadful sigh disturbed the quiet air. He was ashamed by how much he actually wanted that, despite his brain telling him how unrealistic and _cowardly_ it was. It was too late to think like this, to let oneself get lost in creating impossible scenarios, when they were in the middle of a war. Still Remus couldn’t smother the feeling of despair that arose inside of him — none of them deserved this. They had so many dreams and hopes, and now it was all just a pile of blackened ash. But he wouldn’t be able to live with the agonizing guilt of leaving his friends behind. And then there was Sirius — Sirius, who would never even consent to that idea. Remus knew that he’d rather die than betray any of his friends.  

He gently caressed Sirius’ arm, who stirred against him. When they’ll wake up in the morning, the dismal cloud will be once again over their heads, this temporary tenderness and affection washed away by the rain. Remus felt strangely resigned with that notion, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it. They were trapped inside of a burning house, holding each other and waiting for whatever fate awaited them.

Remus was never pious, but as he closed his eyes he prayed to whoever or whatever that may reign above them to have mercy on them all.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title and quotation at the beginning are both from "Dirge Without Music" by Edna St. Vincent Millay.


End file.
